My Whole Life Is Creepy
by InkStainedBlood
Summary: Okay, so I wasn't completely honest to Charlie when I told her about my third foster home. Spoilers for S01 E08.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: The Listener is not mine. If it was, there would be a second season by now and I would give Toby a hug…daily.

This is written in Toby's POV. It's written in the present and italicized for the past. There are pedophilic moments, which include sexual innuendos. Be warned.

Warning: This contains small spoilers from Episode 8 'One Way or Another'. It's somewhat based off of what Toby said in the janitor's closet.

We were being honest, right? Well, not entirely honest, at least on my part. She needed comfort and I gave her assurance. She didn't need to know everything, right? I mean, she is the only detective I know that would bust a guy's nose in front of her boss for 'DNA'. She's tough, but I don't think I was tough enough to tell her. She didn't need to know the real reason I freaked when I saw Anna's memories. I just want to forget.

_The thoughts were clearing away faster now, it seemed. But that could be because of what time it is now. I looked at the clock, noting that I had only four more minutes to completely shut the voices out until he would call up and come tuck me in. I didn't want to hear his thoughts again. But every night since I've been here, he tucks me in with those…those thoughts._

_He seems like a nice guy, but those thoughts are so loud…I can't block them out. Ray says that 'some people are more focused or are more emotionally attached, which may create stronger thoughts that might be harder to keep out.' Either way, I don't want to hear his thoughts or see if they'll actually come true. Donald's a nice guy and a caring husband…I don't want his secret to come out in the open._

_I glance back at the little wooden clock sitting idly on the night stand. Only a few more seconds-_

_"Toby? Hey little guy, I'll be right up to tuck you in. I'm just going to call my wife and tell her that we're going to bed soon," he called up from the hallway downstairs. Oh no, I forgot. Margaret had a late business conference. That means I'm alone…with him and his thoughts._

"Toby, hey, Toby!" I returned back to my seat in Oz's Pumpkin, "Dude, you should get some sleep. You looked exhausted. I know you said you don't have insomnia, but that 904 case really did a number on you." I could feel him looking over at me as he drove towards my apartment. Once I get home, I'll go to sleep and forget all about that third foster home. I'll forget everything…

_I crawl deeper into the bed as the covers draw closer to my body. I can hear every footstep over those terrible thoughts. There's a knock and my bedroom door slowly creaks open as the hallway light floods my room, creating a large shadow of a man over me and the bed. He clicks on the nightlight and sits on the edge of my bed. His thoughts start pushing past my barriers. They're sickening sounds of pleasure that create shivers down my spine._

_"Hey, you cold kid?" he sweetly asks, "Here I'll warm you up." I try to protest but his thoughts become stronger and my head starts to throb. He removed the cover over me and started rubbing my arms. My voice didn't seem to be working as I tried to yell out and tell him to stop._

_He changed positions, sitting on my hips, as he started to rub my chest through my shirt. I could feel every bone in his fingers massaging over my ribs. I finally found my voice, whispering for him to stop and pleading for him not to hurt me._

_He stopped but only to look me in the eyes and then start removing my shirt. Tears leaked out of my eyes as I tried to push him off of me. But he merely grabbed my wrists in one hand and caressed my side with his other; his thoughts so intense with desire that I cried out in pain._

"Here you are, my man. I'll see you at work tomorrow, then?" Oz stretched in his seat as I unbuckled my seatbelt and grabbed my bag.

"Sure, thanks for the ride. See you tomorrow," I answered, not really even thinking about my movements as I got out and closed the discolored door behind me. I heard the car leave as I walked up to the building, feeling like a robot. A thoughtless robot, stuck in a bad dream.

_I had to stop this, but I had no where to go. The system would just say that I was making stuff up because, I don't know, he grounded me or something. I needed a guaranteed way to get away from him, forever. Oh God, is he kissing me?!_

_I opened my bleary eyes to see him stroking my hips with his hand and kissing me on my chest. I struggled to get my hands free, but he held his grip tighter. Only one thing left to do…_

I opened my door, heading straight for the kitchen. I threw my jacket onto the chair and tossed my keys on the table. As usual, I reached into my fridge and grabbed a beer, opening it with the bottle opener always on my table. I took a drink and crossed over to my couch, flopping down, worn out.

_His hand was getting a little too comfortable, as I could feel his fingers brush against the band of my pajama pants. His disgusting kisses left my chest bruised and red. He stopped and let go of my hands, only to pull off my pants with both hands. I grabbed for my pants but he slapped me and threw them across the room. His kisses started up again on my stomach, testing to go lower while his hands ran across my thighs rather harshly. I cry out again, feeling even more helpless and alone. Then, he just stopped._

_He looked back up at my face, a soft smile growing on his face, and he clutched the edge of my boxers and chuckled._

_"It's okay, Toby. Don't you worry. We're going to have fun, just you and me," he cooed in my ear. I took the moment. I quickly brought my knee up to meet his crotch. He howled in pain as I rolled off my bed and ran through the bedroom door. I slid down the stairs and ran towards the garage. I knew I had to do something in order to escape from here for ever._

_I wasn't sure what I was looking for in the garage, but I knew that an idea would pop up soon. Or at least soon enough for him to not catch me… I looked around and saw his nicely polished Volkswagen. I could take that for a spin and possibly crash it, but I'd rather not chance it. I scoured through the garage for no more than a minute until I saw it. Donald still left a full container of gasoline for his lawn mower in the corner of the garage._

_I held onto the container tightly as I could hear his thoughts getting louder in anger. All I needed was a match… There! Donald put everything in his toolbox. He has to have something in there. I rushed over to the rusted box lying on the wooden table and searched through its contents. He didn't have any matches, but he did have an old Zippo lighter. I quickly took off the lid of the gasoline, hearing mad stomps clambering down the stairs. I ran around the garage, dumping the gasoline over everything. I then dropped the container and hurried over to the side door in the garage. I lit the lighter just in time to see a red-faced Donald dash through the other door. He stopped, noticing the smell of gasoline and the lighter in my hand. He screamed at me, but I already let the lighter fall from my hand into the puddle of liquid on the floor. I saw the flames dance in Donald's dark eyes as I threw open the door and ran outside._

_The neighbors must have called the cops, because when I ran down the driveway a pair of lights were racing down the street, followed by a fire truck and ambulance. A police officer dashed over to me, asking me questions, but all of the neighbors' thoughts were in my head and I could only answer with a yelp of pain._

_He picked me up and placed me inside the back of the ambulance while another police tried to ask questions to a bewildered Donald who was now yelling and watching his garage burn down._

My head was in my hands and my beer was left abandoned on the small table in front of me. My eyes were watery and my throat felt coarse. I quickly snatched my phone out of my pocket and dialed a number.

"Hey, Ray. Could you come and pick me up and take me to your place? I'm remembering things," my voice shook, but I knew he understood. He always did.


	2. Epilogue

Disclaimer: If I had fairy godparents, my first wish would be to own The Listener. Key word: IF…

This is written in Toby's POV except for the ending, which is in 3rd POV limited. Peace.

Warning: Same as the first chapter, there are small mentions of a spoiler from Episode 8 'One Way or Another'.

I was so wrapped up in my thoughts, that I didn't hear anyone enter. This, however, caused Ray to scare the hell out of me. I looked up at him with a shy smile and noticed that he had that face on. I didn't need to read his thoughts to know what he was thinking. But I guess he wanted me to know anyway.

'Toby, you know I'm worried about you. First, your power starts evolving, and then you start remembering your past. Where is all of this coming from? Is it something with your brother or your mom?' I close my eyes and softly chuckle at his anxiety.

"No, this has nothing to do with my mother or my brother," I heard a sigh of relief leave him as he sat down in the opposite chair.

"It's something else, isn't it? You sounded scared on the phone," he truly looked worried, making me feel even more insecure, "Well, let's get going if we're going to my place. We'll talk there." He stood up and I followed, picking up my coat and keys off the table before walking out the door. I locked the door behind me and we walked out of the apartment building and to his car in a comfortable silence.

Upon arriving at his house, we settled into his study and sat there, waiting for the other to speak up.

"You look exhausted, Toby. Does that have anything to do with the memories?" he calmly began our conversation. I rubbed my eyes and answered the question.

"No, I don't think so. I had to pull a double and there was this case-"

"What was the case about?" he interrupted. I messed with my hair for a few seconds, trying to piece my thoughts together.

"It was about a serial rapist, or so we thought. We found out that it was just a copycat." I might as well try beating around the bush for awhile.

"I see. Now, what memories are you remembering, if they're not before I met you?" This was the tricky part. It's therapy time.

"Well…Detective Marks and I were having a discussion about past encounters with the subject of the case and…" I looked down at the floor, "I remember my third foster home." There was silence. The silence that could give you headaches.

"That's completely logical for you to start remembering that dreadful time," he broke, "However, you are frightened and I just want you to know that I'm here for you. If you need anyone to talk to, I'm here, so don't be afraid to call for help." That made me laugh again.

"Ray, I called you. I know you're here for me. Thank you." I yawned as fatigue came over me again. I watched Ray get up and leave the room. I snuggled down into the couch, closing my eyes for a little while. I hugged the pillow closer to me.

Ray came back with a blanket and smiled at the sight. Twenty-five-year-old Toby Logan looked as innocent as a five-year-old when he slept. Ray draped the blanket over his slouched form and patted the younger one's dark head of hair. He walked over to the wall and turned off the lights. He left the room, headed towards his room for his own needed sleep. He just hoped Toby would be tough enough to break through the obstacles and not become crazy like his mother. But he had faith in the boy; Toby could overcome anything in his creepy life.


End file.
